I the throes of doubt, behold, some other wanderer meets me.
Whereall and forefrom the quest to save your soul, the very essence of your self is too hard! Damn. Damnation. What all gives up and tests the spirit like this science, this innuendo, this never-ending lust and manipulation? Whose crude idea was this, anyway?
I’m off. I’m out. I have nothing to say. I’ve just got to regrow my brain cells. One At A Fucking Time. Tie my bow-knot and shit up a trite phrase for the visitors; head out and on the road, buddy, on the road again.
Fucked up. Fucked up again. Could have died many times over. Asphyxiation (several times), car crash (at least twice), etc. Damn. What good luck.
Someone doesn’t want me talking.
I’ma fucking talk. Fuck off.
Take the debt. Take the gamble. This voice won’t win. Like a predator I wait…
Cold turkey decay. Adolescence. Spewing sewage all over the yard. Scottland. Who knew? Why did I take that cigarette? What was wrong with me? Uptone? Tonality? Denial? No nonsense; just the nuts and rigoler. Danse. Chanson. Inquietude. Disruption. No normality to the plane of the cosine; simple sinusoids and rhythms disrupt the status quo. Who cares, amiright? No one knows. This won’t outlast anything. The stars have us on speed dial. Is there any conundrum in that? Wow I’m abusing it.
I’ve got to cut it off immediately. No questions. No nonsense. No shits given. Just the end. The end of the crap. Cut it off. Right now now now right now. Forever.
In question I stand, and too tall (again) for disruption; static silences me and I am nowhere again. I find myself taking pictures of things around me, reacquainting myself with the reality I lost for years. How absurd. This tonality of denial is distrustful. I will reread this, and reread it again, and analyze the shit out of all of it and you can’t stop me.
Except you can.
How is that now?
No one asked.
Hammer it out, hammer it out, just give it up, give up to love. Yeah yeah, the quotidian, the nightmare, the tune, and the sleep. So sleep. So give up. Go on. Challenge ahead! Disrupt the norm! Go on, little one. You’ve got the generations in you.
Help decided. It was too much. Too costly. Accost and saviors, all remorse and no time for strudel. Handcuffed at the waist like a toaster vice, the grip gives way and I slip once more. Too dramatic… maybe a joke? No coaster? Har har har…
Arms around me.
Maybe inquisition? No? Not that? Some else? Angels. None. Disrupt. Send. Disrupt. Strive. Tie a knot!